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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25874821">This Is A Love Story</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTotallyReal/pseuds/NotTotallyReal'>NotTotallyReal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, I love them so much, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Nervous Aziraphale (Good Omens), Nervous Crowley (Good Omens), aaaah is this good? idk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:01:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25874821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTotallyReal/pseuds/NotTotallyReal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley and Aziraphale get together. It's ineffable, really.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This Is A Love Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley and Aziraphale were drinking, not an unusual occasion, but it was their first drinking session after the Apocalypse-That-Somehow-Did-Not-Happen and the subsequent Tricking-Heaven-And-Hell. Crowley was on his fourth? Fifth? Ninth perhaps? Bottle of wine and he was staring at Aziraphale while sprawled somehow both lazily and dramatically across the sofa. Aziraphale was sitting on the floor a few feet away, absolutely fascinated with just looking through the bottom of an empty wine bottle. Crowley wasn’t sure why the back room of the bookshop was a strange new world when viewed through the reddish glass bottle, but he was certainly drunk enough to implicitly trust that Aziraphale was right. 		</p><p>There was a full moon, and just when Aziraphale put the bottle down to stare a bit emptily at Crowley, a moonbeam came through the window. It made Aziraphale’s hair shine like white fire and his eyes looked like the pools in posh hotels where they light them from under the water. He looked like the Angel he was, he looked so divine and perfect and lovely and unattainable and good and it was suddenly too much for Crowley. He let out some sort of groan of pain and curled up on the sofa to try and hide within himself. There was a tightness in his chest that was a recurring symptom of millennia of longing, love, and heartbreak. Crowley felt like he was drowning in this feeling of being alone and he almost wanted to start crying to relieve some of it, but he was a big scary demon and it would destroy his reputation (not to mention dignity) if he started bawling like a baby.</p><p>Fortunately, Crowley found he couldn’t even cry. Perhaps he had already cried all the tears his body had when he thought Aziraphale was dead. This realization did not make him feel better, it just made him feel like everyone was against him lately, even his bloody tear ducts. He suddenly remembered the unbearable emptiness he felt when he was in the burning bookshop, and he lifted his head to look for Aziraphale, to make sure his Angel was still there. Aziraphale had moved and was now worriedly leaning over him, clasping and unclasping his hands as he muttered vague soothing words. </p><p>Suddenly it was overwhelming, that his Angel had been dead but then he’d been fine but then they’d all almost been dead, but then they’d been fine but then their bosses had almost killed them but they were fine and now Aziraphale was next to him but he wasn’t as close as Crowley needed him to be. Crowley looked into Aziraphale’s eyes and with shaking hands, he desperately grabbed Aziraphale's lapels to pull the Angel’s face close to his. Without stopping he crashed his mouth into Aziraphale’s. He tried to be gentle, he really did, but he was about to kiss Aziraphale and he couldn’t wait for a second longer. Crowley was too drunk to properly catalog all the sensations, so all he felt was a sense of absolute right like the whole universe, like God herself, had blessed this moment. </p><p>Then he realized Aziraphale hadn’t pulled away, and hope burst into a marble fountain with little birds singing. Then Aziraphale pulled away and the birds committed suicide by braining themselves on the marble. Aziraphale didn’t meet his eyes, but instead cleared his throat and said while carefully looking down, “I think we should sober up, dear. Yes?”</p><p>Crowley was still a bit kiss-drunk as well as actually pissed and so barely managed a stilted nod. He sobered up and hung his head, waiting for the undoubted lecture from Aziraphale. He’d gone too fast, hadn’t he. He was a stupid nothing of a demon, ready to fuck up the one thing in his life that was good whenever and however he could. </p><p>None came, however, and he slowly raised his head to see Aziraphale studying him like he was a particularly interesting book or perhaps a delicious new confection to taste. Crowley swallowed audibly, breath just about hitching as he watched Aziraphale’s eyes wander down to stare fixedly at his throat. Aziraphale lifted his eyes, stared directly into Crowley’s for a brief moment. (But when he turned those eyes on you, Crowley always felt that it was a perfect example for Einstein’s theory that time moved at different speeds.) Aziraphale said, quite clearly, “Fuck it” and lunged at Crowley. </p><p>Crowley’s mouth had dropped open a little at the never-before-heard-swear-from-AZIRAPHALE so it was perfect for Aziraphale to give him a deep, romantic, perfect kiss. Crowley suddenly had an Angel on top of him, angelic lips against his and perfectly manicured Angel hands fisting in his hair. It took only the briefest second for Crowley to get what was happening, and soon Crowley was gently, reverently touching Aziraphale lightly on the sides, on his back, as his angel gently carded through his hair.</p><p>A small part of the demon was worried that it would hurt since Holy Water was so deadly to demons. Being burned when he tried to touch an angel in such a sinful way made a lot of sense to Crowley, so he started panicking a little. Crowley had a bad habit of getting too in his head, but he always kept it under control and if his eyes revealed his feelings, well no one could see it behind his shades.</p><p>But oh Creator of all things good, there was not holy fire damning him for sullying an angel. No, there was just Aziraphale’s touch, somehow human and ethereal at the same time. </p><p>Crowley never thought about it much (big fan of burying emotions, he was) and certainly never talked to Aziraphale about it, but he was always, always in pain. When Crowley was an angel, there was this indescribable sort of second vein running through the human body he had. It was an additional bloodline that seemed only to hum with God’s grace. He could feel Her in him. It made him feel like he was always doing the right thing. How could it be otherwise, with such a feeling of blessedness in him at all times?</p><p>That was one of the reasons why Crowley was so drawn to Aziraphale when he met him on the wall all those years ago. An Angel doubting himself? Crowley would have mockingly laughed if Aziraphale hadn’t looked at him like he had answers and was worthy to give them to an Angel. What could Crowley do, but smile uncontrollably at this Angel who didn’t know how perfect he was. </p><p>Anyway, Crowley is always in pain, yes indeed. When he Fell, that vein changed. Crowley felt like those stars he made, burning. All he could feel was burning. And when it was over, when Crowley was sure that his breaking point had been passed many times, the vein was replaced. Instead of quiet knowledge that he was good, the vein kept burning to constantly remind him how very, very, very not good he was. Crowley was pretty sure it was Hellfire, and it always burned. </p><p>Miraculously, alcohol numbed that pain. Crowley’s theory was that after so many millennia in one body, his demon self had bonded almost completely to the human vessel he was in. This meant that alcohol numbed all bodily feelings, even demonic ones. </p><p>The times when Crowley was not inspiring countless multitudes of functioning alcoholics, he ignored it as best he could. It was a wonderful reminder for every time that Crowley wanted to lean over and kiss those pink lips until he felt that little smile against his. That vein would pulse and he remembered that he was a Demon, wrong, and barely worthy to serve his Angel. </p><p>Crowley only thought about the pain to realize that Aziraphale’s touch erased it. He had suspected it, as the few accidental hand-brushings or drunken clashing of heads had made the pain go away for the short seconds it lasted, leaving Crowley wondering if he had just imagined it. Crowley never really acknowledged it since it led to dangerous thoughts and anyway he was due for a nap, wasn’t he? Had to keep being slothful, slacking as he was in other demonic attributes. </p><p>But with Aziraphale’s hands exploring under his shirt, Crowley was completely overwhelmed, just laying there trying to process it all and it was the perfect time to fully realize that Aziraphale took away the pain like he took Crowley’s breath when he kissed him. </p><p>Suddenly, Crowley felt this new fire, a much better fire, running in his veins. Although Crowley had tempted many a human with his saunter, manes of flaming hair, and inexplicably sexy scrawniness, he had never felt Lust himself. Why would he, when the only being he had ever wanted to bury into (physically, emotionally, metaphorically and a couple of other ally’s for good measure) was an Angel who was undoubtedly too pure to feel Lust?</p><p>Crowley grinned at how very delightfully wrong he was about that, and then propelled himself up to catch Aziraphale in his arms and deposit him on the other end of the sofa, with Crowley above him.</p><p>Aziraphale made a bit of a squeaking noise in his throat as he stared up at Crowley with so much love and trust and want. It was a bit too much for poor old Crowley and he dove into kissing that lovely white neck until the feeling was gone and replaced with something much more, uh...suitable to current proceedings. </p><p> ...

</p><p>Aziraphale was absolutely, positively sure that this was indescribably better than Heaven. However, if he thought about that thought too much, it led to worrying themes of his holiness and his relationship with Her that he didn’t want to bring up while kissing (kissing? KISSING?!) Crowley. </p><p>Instead, Aziraphale was remembering vague phrases from his favorite books on the topic of love, along with some various medieval ballads and thinking rather smugly that they didn’t compare at all. Really, it was a shame all those writers and singers never touched his demon, although on second thought if they had Aziraphale might have brought out his flaming sword. Just to intimidate them, that’s all. </p><p>Aziraphale was pretty sure he didn’t have to worry about it because Crowley was arching into him like he’d never been touched before. But what if he had? What if he was just acting like this to please Aziraphale, what if he never really wanted to kiss Aziraphale at all. Aziraphale knew Crowley would do that, pretend to be very into something for the sake of Aziraphale, and what if that was all that was happening?</p><p>As Aziraphale’s thoughts started sort of running, then stopping and running in another direction (all the while wringing its hands and nervously smoothing down its waistcoat) his hands stilled. Crowley immediately became serpent-still and stared at him. </p><p>“Oh, erm, uh C-Crowley,” stuttered Aziraphale.</p><p>“Angel?” Crowley quirked an eyebrow up, suddenly looking both mortified and worried. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”</p><p>“Oh well, it's a bit of a question of what you have previously, um, done, my dear boy.” Aziraphale steadfastly avoided eye contact, instead staring directly at Crowley’s hairline. </p><p>“Wot?” Crowley sat up, accidentally dumping a quite flustered angel onto the other end of the couch. He sat up and took Aziraphale’s hands in his. “Angel, tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>Aziraphale finally met his eyes and immediately blushed. Crowley’s eyes looked so beautiful, an even more gorgeous yellow than they usually were. And the fact that the pupils had turned into narrow, almost invisible slits made Aziraphale even more awkward and flushed. </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale said a bit hesitantly, “it’s just that, well, I’ve never done this with anyone before, you see.” Aziraphale stared a bit desperately into Crowley’s eyes, trying to make him understand. “And um, well you are so beautiful and er, attractive so you must have, uh, you know what I’m talking about.” Aziraphale looked down, finding a bit of comfort in Crowley’s hands in his.</p><p>“Oh Angel,” Crowley sighed, bringing Aziraphale’s hands up to kiss them softly. “I’ve never done anything either.”</p><p>Aziraphale was struck almost speechless. Crowley was a demon! And an unbelievably gorgeous one as well!</p><p>Crowley kept talking. “How could I, when I’ve been desperately, hopelessly in love with you whether I realized it or not for the last 6 millennia?”</p><p>“Oh.” Aziraphale softly said. “Really?” Crowley had never lied to him, so he must be telling the truth and Crowley really was just as inexperienced as him. </p><p>Aziraphale smiled wide and big, and watched Crowley soften all his poky edges. Aziraphale reached out to hug Crowley and hummed contentedly when he finally held his demon in his arms. This was where he belonged.</p><p> ...

</p>
<p>Crowley burrowed into Aziraphale, tucking his face inside his perfectly maintained coat and just breathing in the smell of Aziraphale. He smelled just like Crowley had always imagined, like old books and properly brewed tea and love. </p><p>Crowley suddenly had an idea, and slowly snaked his hands around Aziraphale's waist, up his back, to his bowtie. He untied it, and quickly tossed it across the room. (Of course, it landed starched and folded on a nearby table.) Aziraphale pushed Crowley away and looked quite affronted.</p><p>“Really, what are you doing?” Aziraphale gasped. </p><p>“Angel, I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” Crowley responded, admiring the effect his words had on his Angel. He grinned his best Crowley grin and leaned into another kiss. </p><p> ...

</p>
<p>Aziraphale kissed him back, wrapped his arms around him, and decided he was never, ever, ever letting go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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